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Authors: Stephanie Karpinske
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don’t want to see anyone.”
“What about Colin? He’s been by twice now.”
“Tell him I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
“Allie came by. And that girl you work with at the coffee shop.”
“I said I don’t want to see anyone!” I yelled at him. “Just leave me alone!”
He tried giving me a hug, but I pushed him away. “Okay, Sam. I’ll let you sleep.”
Dave didn’t come back the rest of the day. I spent the afternoon and evening in bed, tossing and turning. I kept imagining my parents’ car going off the road, with me watching from afar, unable to help.
Eventually I drifted into a deep sleep and saw vivid images of the accident scene. It was like I was right there watching it. I could see a couple of tow truck guys trying to get my parents’ car out of the ravine. It was daylight and I could see the car, but it was so twisted and burned that I barely recognized it. The doors had been torn completely off in an attempt to get my parents out, even though the impact of the crash had already taken their lives.
“I ain’t no detective, Joe, but I can tell you, that was no accident,” the scruffy old tow truck guy said, shaking his head in disbelief. “That car was messed with—no lie. Someone didn’t want those two around.” He cocked his head to the side as if trying to imagine how the car ended up in its current condition.
“Think we should say something to the cops?” asked Joe, a younger version of the old man.
“Course not. Have I taught you nothin’ all these years? Cops bring trouble. And we don’t need no trouble. Play stupid and pretend you know nothin’. That’s how you survive.”
“You’re smarter than you look, Mr. McComb.” A man in a dark suit came out from the trees holding a gun at the old man. “But your son’s not too bright. And that’s too bad. For both of you.”
A shot fired and the son fell to the ground. The old man rushed to his son’s side. “What did you do?! Joe!” Another shot rang out. The old man collapsed over his son.
I woke up sweating and short of breath. It’s only a dream, I said to myself. Just another dream.
Over the past few months, my dreams had become more and more lifelike and I often woke up confused, wondering if I was in the dream or real life. I looked around and found myself still safely in bed.
As my breathing returned to normal, the images from the dream continued to fill my head. Something about the dream seemed oddly familiar. I pictured the scene again. The man with the gun. It was like I knew him. But how? I thought hard, then instantly I knew. It was the man from the coffee shop. The guy that came in the day before Thanksgiving, right before we closed, when I was all alone.
I felt sick to my stomach. It can’t be, I thought. It was just a dream. And the car crash? It was an accident, I told myself. It was night. It was dark. It was just an accident.
After an hour or so of telling myself that, I finally fell asleep again around 2:30 a.m.
Unfortunately the dream picked up right where it had left off.
“I’ll take it from here.” The man in the dark suit grabbed a file from a young police officer and pushed him aside.
“What are you doing? I have to finish that report.” The young officer yelled, but then lowered his voice upon seeing the police chief walk in.
“Let him take it, John. This is Mr. Roberts from the federal transportation safety office. That construction company doing the road work out on Stevens Point has been in trouble for years for not following safety procedures. They win government contracts with their cheap bids, then take shortcuts so the owners can pocket the cash. They built that faulty bridge over in Dodge County a year ago and got off with a fine. I got a feeling this latest accident is going to be the end for that company.”
The young officer looked puzzled. “You’re the boss, chief. Let me know if you need me.” He turned and walked away as the
“What about Colin? He’s been by twice now.”
“Tell him I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
“Allie came by. And that girl you work with at the coffee shop.”
“I said I don’t want to see anyone!” I yelled at him. “Just leave me alone!”
He tried giving me a hug, but I pushed him away. “Okay, Sam. I’ll let you sleep.”
Dave didn’t come back the rest of the day. I spent the afternoon and evening in bed, tossing and turning. I kept imagining my parents’ car going off the road, with me watching from afar, unable to help.
Eventually I drifted into a deep sleep and saw vivid images of the accident scene. It was like I was right there watching it. I could see a couple of tow truck guys trying to get my parents’ car out of the ravine. It was daylight and I could see the car, but it was so twisted and burned that I barely recognized it. The doors had been torn completely off in an attempt to get my parents out, even though the impact of the crash had already taken their lives.
“I ain’t no detective, Joe, but I can tell you, that was no accident,” the scruffy old tow truck guy said, shaking his head in disbelief. “That car was messed with—no lie. Someone didn’t want those two around.” He cocked his head to the side as if trying to imagine how the car ended up in its current condition.
“Think we should say something to the cops?” asked Joe, a younger version of the old man.
“Course not. Have I taught you nothin’ all these years? Cops bring trouble. And we don’t need no trouble. Play stupid and pretend you know nothin’. That’s how you survive.”
“You’re smarter than you look, Mr. McComb.” A man in a dark suit came out from the trees holding a gun at the old man. “But your son’s not too bright. And that’s too bad. For both of you.”
A shot fired and the son fell to the ground. The old man rushed to his son’s side. “What did you do?! Joe!” Another shot rang out. The old man collapsed over his son.
I woke up sweating and short of breath. It’s only a dream, I said to myself. Just another dream.
Over the past few months, my dreams had become more and more lifelike and I often woke up confused, wondering if I was in the dream or real life. I looked around and found myself still safely in bed.
As my breathing returned to normal, the images from the dream continued to fill my head. Something about the dream seemed oddly familiar. I pictured the scene again. The man with the gun. It was like I knew him. But how? I thought hard, then instantly I knew. It was the man from the coffee shop. The guy that came in the day before Thanksgiving, right before we closed, when I was all alone.
I felt sick to my stomach. It can’t be, I thought. It was just a dream. And the car crash? It was an accident, I told myself. It was night. It was dark. It was just an accident.
After an hour or so of telling myself that, I finally fell asleep again around 2:30 a.m.
Unfortunately the dream picked up right where it had left off.
“I’ll take it from here.” The man in the dark suit grabbed a file from a young police officer and pushed him aside.
“What are you doing? I have to finish that report.” The young officer yelled, but then lowered his voice upon seeing the police chief walk in.
“Let him take it, John. This is Mr. Roberts from the federal transportation safety office. That construction company doing the road work out on Stevens Point has been in trouble for years for not following safety procedures. They win government contracts with their cheap bids, then take shortcuts so the owners can pocket the cash. They built that faulty bridge over in Dodge County a year ago and got off with a fine. I got a feeling this latest accident is going to be the end for that company.”
The young officer looked puzzled. “You’re the boss, chief. Let me know if you need me.” He turned and walked away as the
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